It says a lot about the rapid rise of Brontide that their appearance at the inaugural ArcTanGent was a shut-out for me and quite a few others. I couldn't even get into the tent, never mind anywhere close to the band themselves, as they played a raucous set consisting of material from much-lauded debut Sans Souci and a smattering of new material. Fast forward almost a year, and the new material has found a home on their much-anticipated second album, Artery.
It's easy to draw parallels between the two records. The rock-solid core that has guided the band through their first 5 years of existence remains unchanged: Tim Hancock's loop-based guitar work, the interplay between bassist Nathan Fairweather (who, in case you needed reminding, is also a key part of Rolo Tomassi) and the indefatigable drumming of William Bowerman. There are 8 tracks, once again; and just like last time, they are parts of a whole, perhaps even more supportive of each other - codas reemerge as the foundations of other tracks (as in the segue from 'Tonitro' into 'Kith and Kin'), and melodic ideas move with increasing unpredictability: lead single 'Cabin' switches gears from melancholia into dance-inflected uplift within seconds.
One noticeable difference is that the monolithic heaviness of its predecessor has been cast aside in favour of something more nuanced. For all its technical prowess and irresistible force, Sans Souci was a lot to take in. This time around, the peaks and valleys are more noticeable, accessibility more pronounced. They haven't gone full-on pop (as interesting as that would be for them to try), but the last minute or so of the near-7-minute 'Kith And Kin' manages to be arguably the most immediate moment in their catalogue to date, electronic rhythms and floaty synths combining to produce a dizzily euphoric moment that is just one of the surprises the record has up its sleeve. (Depending on what format you listen to it on, that can be taken in either a literal or figurative sense.)
Brontide can be just as head-spinning as before - it's what we've come to expect from them, after all - but a more streamlined approach doesn't necessarily mean forsaking complexity, and 'Knives', the hyperactive, 8-minute track that forms the centrepiece of the record, packs in so many ideas that it's a relief it doesn't collapse in on itself. A breather arrives in the form of 'Still Life', a beautiful piece that owes as much to the Kinsella family of bands as it does the technicality of the likes of TTNG. From there, it's left to the powerful one-two punch of 'Caramel' and celebratory closer 'Red Gold' to finish off a complete work that becomes more impressive with each successive listen. By taking their time with another album, where other bands of this ilk would have been far less careful, the band are now at the point where musical precision and undeniable beauty meet, and their second album should be regarded as just as much of a triumph as their first, if not even more so.
